A Day in the Life
by Kalear Silverwolf
Summary: RB, though not really. Bakura goes hunting with a falcon, and brings Ryou along.
1. Prolouge

Things to note:

Prologue

This story is not really about Ryou and Bakura. I really tried for it to be, and I still might re-write it to include more about Ryou and Bakura. Once I had finished it though, it turned out to be more about Falconry than anything else.

Real Falconry is the art of hunting wild quarry with a trained bird of prey. I have been a falconer for 3 years now, and I flew a male Red-tailed hawk until just recently. It is in his memory that I am posting this.

So, as a dirt hawker, I do not have the knowledge of flying a long wing (falcon), like a do about flying a hawk. These birds have slightly different training techniques than I am used to, but I do know of it in theory, and I have been on several hunts with long wings, and they are all great fun.

There are some falconry terms I would like to clarify, so that I do not completely confuse everyone.

**Sharp**: the bird is at a good weight to go hunting. A bird will only respond to its falconer if it is hungry enough.

**Hood, drawing the hood**: this a leather 'cap' that sits on the birds head and blocks its vision entirely. Drawing the hood is just to pull the straps on the back close to keep the hood on.

**Keel**: breastbone.

**Bells**: most falconers who fly hawks will put a special type of bell on them, to be able to hear them when they move or they are on a kill. Bells are optional with falcons, and some even believe they can damage the falcons feet upon impact with prey.

**Pitch**: height at which a falcon will climb before she **stoops**, or dives on her prey. An average pitch for a falcon is somewhere between 500-800 feet, though they do go higher.

**Taking up**: picking the bird up of the kill, in this case. Can also be just taking the bird off a perch to your fist.

**Fist**: falconers wear a leather glove or gauntlet on their non-dominant hand, to hold the bird on. For a large hawk, the glove normally goes most of the way up your forearm, but for a falcon it can be shorter. It protects you from their feet and gives them something to stand on. 

Oh, and Wosret is a female Saker falcon, a sandy-colored desert falcon that is native to the middle east.


	2. A Day in the Life

A Day in the Life

Kalear Silverwolf

I had just sat down to a good book, and actually had the time to read it in, too, when I was informed I was going hunting, as Wosret was sharp. When I asked if I could bring my book, you said I could, so I agreed. I didn't think I would mind it as much with a distraction.

It took you only a little time to ready Wosret, who was chirping and flapping her wings in anticipation. I held her for you for a moment while you readied her food or some other little thing, stroking her chest absently with a stray feather, and letting her nibble my finger with her beak. Then you came back and all she wanted was to be with you. She knows I'm no hunter. You took her back and, drawing the hood, said we were ready.

When arrived at the 3rd field, we finally spotted ducks on the water, Teals by the way you were acting. One of the harder species to catch with a falcon, though Wosret had caught them before.

Bakura woke Wosret gently, striking the hood and stroking her keel, talking softly to her in Egyptian. Telling her to fly high, and to wait for him to flush the ducks from the pond. Wosret didn't make a sound as the hood was removed, but she did flap her wings, indicating her urgency to be off. Bakura flew her un-belled, so her flight would be as silent as possible.

She launched from your fist, the sound of her wing beats loud in the silence. You waited, and in our mind I could hear you counting to 1000, waiting, giving Wosret the time to get to a good height.

I went back to my book, leaning against the car. I knew what was to come.

I scarcely heard you as you left, millennia of thieving giving you an edge to sneaking up on your prey. I did clearly hear your shout, and the sound of a dozen wings lifting into the air at the start.

I looked up as I felt the spike of what could only be called glee radiating from you, and I was surprised to feel even more faintly the total concentration of Wosret, and to realize you were guiding her, giving her an extra viewpoint in which to calculate the angle and speed of the ducks flight.

Bakura realized I knew he was helping Wosret, and with a subtle mental bump I found myself looking through her eyes, and feeling the disorienting feeling of falling through the air at over 100 miles an hour. In my shock I snapped back to my own body, just in time to see Wosret strike a duck and keep going. Feathers exploded as the drake abruptly stopped all forward movement, stunned. Wosret was now climbing for a second strike on the drake, and though the pitch was nowhere near as high as the first, she seemed to hang in the air for a moment, suspended in time for a moment before her second stoop.

Bakura was already running toward the spiraling duck, maniacal laughing following his wake. He was heading roughly for where the duck would land, which was still about a hundred yards away. He was watching the sky all the while, and therefore was watching when Wosret make her second strike, this time riding the drake to the ground. Bakura only increased his speed, and again I felt Wosrets presence, and Bakura mumbling praises to her mind.

I headed over as well, at a more sedate pace, not really wanting to approach the kill site. I understood why Bakura did it, now, even without his love of killing; I realized that he had wanted me to understand, that to him it was more than simple control over a beautiful creature, it was a partnership. To be able to feel and see what the falcon felt as she flew might even tempt me to take up Falconry, even if that meant killing the prey myself.

By the time I had arrived, Bakura had already approached Wosret, properly killed the duck and was in the beginning stages of taking her back up. Indeed, Wosret was just hoping to Bakura's fist as I approached, the drake nowhere in sight.

Bakura had plucked a primary from the drake and was now settling her feathers with it, gently talking to her in Egyptian. He obviously felt me approach, for he started to talk to me instead.

"Not all falconer's hunt this way, of course," He told me, back still turned as he drew the hood, but he looked back at me and smirked, "but I showed you her flight to let you see it how I do, and why I find it so alluring. Do you understand?"

By the time he had finished, he was facing me. I nodded, I understood the appeal, and especially why Bakura would also.

Wosret chirped and flapped her wings, knowing Bakura had turned his attention away from her even when she was hooded. He quickly obliged, cooing praise in a long dead language, Ancient Egyptian being the only language he used with her.

I turned as I heard the sound of dozens of wings in the air, and saw a flock abruptly bypass our pond to land in one near. A few more cheeps from Wosret, wanting a chance at a double, and after a few moments of calculation on Bakura's part, and a brief mental brush with both Wosret and I, she was aloft again, ready for Bakura to direct her in another chase, with another duck.


End file.
